


It's a date

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 10:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18140750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Ianto lands in hot water with his family thanks to a seemingly thoughtless act.





	It's a date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badly_knitted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badly_knitted/gifts).



It shouldn't have happened. Not really. Not if you excluded all the improbabilities that had lead to this particular moment.

Jack should have been in his office, working. Not wandering about the archives looking for Ianto.

Ianto should have been at his desk, working. Not at the town hall paying council taxes for Jack's various investment properties.

Had either of them been where they should be, it wouldn't have happened. 

 

Jack was pottering around Ianto's desk in the archives, waiting for the man himself to appear, forgetting that he was out for the morning. He'd just assumed Ianto was down here. Then he'd gotten the call from Kathy Swanson who'd kindly, and perhaps begrudgingly, given him a lead on one of their investigations. It was a contact phone number for a guy who might know something of use - with the right persuasion of course. Not that the police would condone that sort of thing, but Torchwood operated by different sets of rules.

Jack grabbed a pen from the caddy on Ianto's desk and then searched for a piece of paper to jot down the number. Only there was none. The desk was so neat that nothing else remained on its surface. Then he saw it. The tiny desk calendar, the type you flip over each day and rip the preceding day's page from. Only Ianto, being far too fastidious, kept all the prior days tucked underneath, just in case he should need to refer to something that had happened. There was never a single day that didn't have writing on it, though most of it was inane, uninteresting stuff like, "pick up dry cleaning", or "monthly medical checkup". Jack didn't bother with such things, simply tearing off the current day's page and flipping it over to write on the unblemished side.

'Thanks Kathy. Owe you one,' he replied as he rang off, flipping the page back over to check what pointless tasks Ianto had allocated for today, annoyed that "shag Jack" never featured on any given day. Surely that was priority number one. Though they had been totally run off their feet of late. Shagging had become a luxury, rather than an essential.

He noted the two items listed. "Pay council tax", and "Mica's birthday. 7pm".

Oh, so that's where he was, Jack recalled, seeing the note. He texted Ianto to pick up donuts on the way back, before folding up the piece of paper and shoving it in his pocket for later. The lead was important, but not a priority. He'd also remind Ianto when he got back about his dinner date, though he was sure the efficient young man had it all well in hand. Probably picking up a gift on the way back while he was at it. 

 

The afternoon flew by with a string of minor rift alerts, keeping all three of them dashing from one end of Cardiff to the other. By the time they'd finally rolled back through the cog wheel door, they were exhausted. Gwen was duly sent home, and Jack had other plans for Ianto, which included a bed, but not necessarily the well earned rest normally associated with such a piece of furniture.

Several hours later, when both of them were finally sated, Ianto had managed to crawl back out of the tiny cot and began the arduous task of folding the clothes that had been strewn all over the floor in their haste.

'I'm exhausted just watching you do that,' Jack sighed, not moving from his sprawled position on the bed.

'Well, maybe if you did your own, watching me do it wouldn't be nearly as tiring,' he quipped.

As he picked up Jack's trousers, the folded piece of paper fell from the pocket. 'What's this?' he asked, unfolding it for inspection.

'Phone number for that guy in Neath I was telling you about. Gift from Detective Swanson.'

As Ianto unfolded it further, he caught his own writing on the back of it. He stopped and rechecked the date on the paper. 'Oh, no.'

'Oh, no, what?'

'Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Jack! It's Mica's birthday! I was meant to be at my sister's house over two hours ago!'

He dashed for his own jacket and pulled the phone from its breast pocket. 'Four missed calls. Shit!'

In between his panicked flitting about the room, Jack's faced had gone from confusion to horrendous guilt. 'Oh, I meant to remind you about that.'

'What?' he said incredulously.

'I saw it when I tore it off your calendar. I guess I just forgot.'

'You forgot! Seriously?'

'Hey! You forgot, too!' Jack argued.

'Yes, but I had it written down to remind me. I wasn't expecting some muppet to go and tear it off my calendar without my knowing! Bloody hell!'

'You really should put stuff like that in your phone calendar.'

Jack received a clip over his head for the suggestion, which was impressive since Ianto was only partway through pulling his trousers back on. He was already dialing his sister's number, still staring daggers at Jack. 'I'm going to be in deep shit because of y-, Rhi! Hi!'

Jack didn't have to imagine what was being said on the other end of the line. It was perfectly audible from five yards away.

'I'm sorry,' Ianto apologised, 'I'm still at work. I got caught up.'

'Bloody public servants don't work overtime! You were supposed to be here two hours ago!'

'Tell that to my boss,' he replied, throwing another death glare in Jack's direction.

'So are you coming or not? Mica thinks you're not coming because you don't love her.'

'Er,' he hated it when she did this. What was it about sisters that made them capable of guilt tripping you in a matter of seconds? She didn't even give him time to reply properly.

'It's a simple question, Ianto. Yes or no?' she asked impatiently.

'Is there a third option?' He cringed even as he said it, knowing it wasn't going to go down well, and holding the phone away from his ear, awaiting the onslaught. The look on Jack's face told him all he needed to know about just how badly that was going to pan out for him. He cut Rhiannon off before she had a chance to tear him a new one. She'd have plenty of time for that later. 'Just forget I said that, okay? I'll be there in twenty.'

He hung up and caught the contrite look on Jack's face. It didn't make him feel any more benevolent. 'Now I have to go over there and grovel for forgiveness. Thanks a lot.'

'I'm sorry,' Jack repeated. 'Can I drive you there at least? Break a few speed limits in the company car?'

'No!' Ianto yelled, ending the conversation. 

 

He grumbled the entire way there. Not only was he terribly late, he hadn't showered and was still wearing the same clothes he'd been running around in all day. Plus he probably smelled like sex and Jack, most of the time not a bad thing, but not something he wanted his sister smelling on him.

This was all Jack's fault, and he couldn't even blame him and point the finger because he'd so far managed to keep that particular tidbit under very close wraps. If his sister ever found out... God, it didn't bear considering. Now he was stuck copping the blame himself. He was also partly annoyed at himself. Perhaps if he'd been a better uncle, he wouldn't need to write his niece's birthday on a calendar. He just had so many other things vying for his attention on a daily basis. Bloody Torchwood!

Twenty minutes became forty as he stopped at the closest department store to pick up a last minute gift. When the shop assistant offered to wrap it for him, he almost could have kissed her. A quick dash back out of the store, via the cosmetics department and past the samples of cologne, dousing himself to hide the rest of the smells, and it was back in the car. Organised chaos was definitely not his style. 

 

'What time do you call this, then?' Rhiannon snarked when she opened the door. He didn't often knock, but today it seemed appropriate not to wander quite so willingly into the lion's den.

'Uncle Ianto!' Mica screamed and came running at the door, sparing him from further explanations as she hugged his legs.

'Happy birthday,' he replied, awkwardly hugging back. He'd never been good at this.

Mica was already running off, new gift in hand, back to the lounge to rip off the paper and show whatever it was to her brother.

'Hope you didn't spend too much,' Rhiannon remarked. 'She's been spoiled enough as is, and then we'll only have to up the ante for David's birthday,' she continued.

If only it were that simple, he thought. Lavishing them with expensive gifts would be easier, but then she'd start asking questions as to how he could afford it on public service wages. Plus he knew they weren't exactly rolling in money themselves, barely getting by. That would just make things worse. Why did things have to be so complicated?

He hadn't realised that he hadn't answered her until she kept going.

'Spose we should be glad you turned up at all.'

Oh, how he wanted to defend himself. Bloody Torchwood and bloody Jack! How could one man turn his whole ordered world into absolute chaos? Instead he knew to keep his silence and gave her his most contrite and apologetic look. 'Sorry, it's just, work,' he finished pitifully.

She fixed him with a stare that suggested the discussion was far from over, but would be shelved until after the kids were in bed. He followed her down the hall and into the main lounge whilst she offered him something to drink.

He saw the sympathetic look on Johnny's face as he perched on the edge of the sofa opposite him, watching David and Mica energetically playing some new video game in between mouthfuls of heavily pink-iced cake. The two men rarely had much in common, but his sister's wrath was one thing they had both experienced in spades.

'You could still run, mate,' he suggested as Rhiannon strolled back into the kitchen, her fury cleverly concealed in front of the kids.

'Running only makes things worse.'

'Yeah,' he agreed, sipping on his beer. 'You're probably right. Still, nice to not be the one in the doghouse for a change. You should come around more often,' he joked.

Ianto sighed. It was going to be a long night. But at least Mica was happy. That had to count for something. Plus, Ianto wouldn't be the only one in the doghouse tonight. There was a certain 51st century immortal who would be in equal amounts of pain very shortly.


End file.
